


Like I Used To (or not)

by firstdegreefangirl



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anniversary, Feelings, Inspired by Music, M/M, Miscommunication, Romance, and Buck could hear him out, feelings talk, if Eddie could just use better words, like 98 percent of their problems would be solved, someone should take FM country radio away from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24316978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: “You don’t love me like you used to?”“No.”Buck and Eddie are celebrating their third anniversary when Eddie's foot ends up in his own mouth and Buck thinks his heart is broken.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 369





	Like I Used To (or not)

**Author's Note:**

> So Russell Dickerson has a song called "Like I Used To" that played in my car today and left me with this _incredible_ idea. I ran it by Eli and ended up turning it into this, on less than a 12-hour turnaround. Enjoy, and remember the cardinal rule of everything I write: I believe in happy endings.

Buck looks across the table and smiles at the sight of Eddie focused on the plate of carbonara in front of him. Eddie isn’t paying him a lick of attention, but Buck is happy just to watch his boyfriend for a moment, notice how the setting sun bathes him in a ring of golden light 

There’s no way he can take a picture of it, not without ruining the moment, so he busies himself with committing it to his memory. He knows it’s something he never wants to forget, the way Eddie looks dressed up in his dark green shirt and charcoal gray blazer, the light around him like a halo in the dimly lit Italian restaurant. Especially when Eddie notices that he’s being watched and looks up. 

“Buck?” His name sounds almost reverent, one of the best things he’s ever heard come out of Eddie’s mouth. “Everything OK?” 

“Hmm? Oh, it’s great. Everything’s great. I’m just … really glad we’re doing this.” He sighs and reaches across the table for Eddie’s hand. “Coming back here, spending the evening together, all of it.” 

“Me too.” Eddie squeezes his fingers and smiles. “Happy anniversary, cariño.” 

They look at each other for a second longer, until the moment ends itself. Fingers slip apart, forks clink back against plates and the meal goes on. 

But Buck keeps sneaking glances at Eddie every chance he gets. He’s not sure why he’s trying to be coy; they’ve been dating for three years, but there’s something about the way Eddie looks when he doesn't know he’s being watched that has infatuated Buck even longer than he’d initially been willing to admit to himself. 

They’re recreating their first real, honest-to-god date, just like they did last year and the year before. It didn’t start out as a tradition, but after two years in a row, they both agreed that it felt like more than eating dinner at their favorite restaurant. After the meal, Eddie will suggest _dessert_ and wiggle his eyebrows and Buck, ever oblivious, will miss the hint entirely and mention his favorite ice cream place. It’s half an hour across town, but Eddie will agree almost immediately, just like the first time, and they’ll hold hands over the console of his truck. (Two weeks after that first date, Eddie had told Buck that he was angling for something “off the menu” and Buck had pointed out that he’d gotten that as well. Tonight, there won’t be any pretense at the end of the night, as they fall into their shared bed, in the house that used to be Eddie’s but somewhere along the way got Buck’s name attached to it as well.) 

When the ice cream is gone, and Buck has kissed the taste of cookies and cream out of Eddie’s mouth, they’ll go home, curl up together on the couch and watch whatever reality trivia show they can play along with. 

Buck can’t think of a better tradition, or a better end to the evening than his head pillowed on Eddie’s thigh, Eddie’s fingers tangled in his hair and his hand drawing lines up and down Eddie’s calf while he promises that he’s paying attention, he’s just letting Eddie answer the questions out loud so he thinks he’s winning. 

Except maybe the way they’ll fall asleep later, still wrapped up in each other after moving to the bedroom to relive the first night they spent together, exploring each other’s bodies and hearts. 

Buck sighs as the TV cuts to a commercial break, curling his torso up to kiss Eddie, who meets him halfway. When they break apart, Buck shifts himself upward, tucking his head under Eddie’s chin and curling an arm around his waist. His thumb finds its way underneath the bottom of Eddie’s dress shirt, long since untucked, and traces circles into his hipbone. 

He tilts his chin up to mouth at Eddie’s jaw until he turns his head to press their mouths together again. 

They lean apart, just far enough to breathe, and Buck pulls his hand up to rest on Eddie’s chest, pressed over his heartbeat. 

“I love this,” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips. “I love _you_.” 

“I love you too.” Eddie reaches for Buck’s hair again, pushes his head down gently, just far enough to drop a handful of gentle kisses against the crown of his head. 

“I love you more.” Buck kisses the hollow of his throat, right above the first button on his shirt. 

It's one of his favorite games, “who loves who more.” They’ll start like this, soft and sweet. Sometimes it builds physically, ends at the end of the hall, on top of the covers, frantic sex with something to prove. 

But Buck likes it best when it ends as it begins, soft whispers of what, exactly, they love about each other. That’s the one they can play almost anywhere, even at work, pointing out tiny freckles and lunchbox notes written for Christopher, cookies baked and bookshelves built so Buck’s home library could fit neatly into Eddie’s space as it became theirs. 

That’s the direction he thinks they’re going tonight, when he feels Eddie grin into his hair and squeeze his shoulder gently. 

“Mmm, doubtful. I love you most of all.” 

“I love you as much as I did the first night we did this.” His fingers twitch against Eddie’s chest. 

“I don’t.” 

Buck sits up at that, breaking all contact with Eddie as his heart sinks. 

“You don’t?” He feels the lump building up in his throat. “You don’t love me like you used to?” 

“No.” Eddie opens his mouth like he’s getting ready to say something else, but Buck doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to hear Eddie’s carefully level tone explain when he stopped loving him. Because he knows exactly how it would sound, even and soft, the same way he scolds Christopher when he breaks the rules; he wouldn’t yell, but Buck’s heart would shatter anyway. 

He can’t take that, so he stands up instead, takes off for their bedroom and slams the door behind him. 

_If Eddie doesn’t love him, he’ll take his things and make room for someone new. Buck just hopes they know that they’re the luckiest person on Earth, to be the_ _recipient_ _of Eddie’s love._

He starts with the dresser, pulling the top drawer open and staring down at the T-shirts inside. The plan is to take his shirts out, start a pile on the bed and grab his suitcase when he gets over to the closet. 

But as he looks into the drawer, his eyes blur with tears. Not that it would make a difference, anyway. There's no way he can which shirts are his to pull out of the drawer; but none of them are Eddie’s either. 

It’s one more thing they shared, a wardrobe that’s largely communal. None of the shirts are his, or Eddie’s. The drawer is full of _their_ clothes, and Buck can’t even begin to divide the drawer into halves. He tries reaching for his favorite tee, bright green and faded from the summer he spent tending bar in Cozumel. But he remembers how much better it looks stretched across Eddie’s shoulders and he can’t bear to take it out. So he puts it back and collapses onto the end of the mattress. 

The bed bounces under his weight and he balls his hands into fists, shoves them against his eyes so Eddie can’t have the satisfaction of making him cry. 

* * *

Eddie’s jaw snaps shut when Buck turns for the hallway. He wants to go after him, but can't get his legs to cooperate. Then the door slams, but he doesn’t hear the lock click. 

Finally, he’s standing up and following the path Buck just took. Their bedroom door is still closed when he gets there, and even if it’s probably unlocked, he’s got enough respect for Buck’s boundaries not to barge in. 

Instead, he knocks gently, reaching across his body to grasp the knob while he leans close, trying to hear Buck inside. He reaches up, raps his knuckles against the wood three times in quick succession, holds his breath while he waits for Buck to respond. 

“Go away!” Eddie’s chest goes tight when he hears the way Buck’s voice is thick with tears. “If you don’t love me anymore, you should just leave so I can pack my things and get out of your life.” 

Eddie listens closely for any background noises while he processes what Buck said. He hates the way he feels himself relying on his old military instincts, trying to hear any movement, assessing the potential threat. 

Buck is his boyfriend. At least, as far as he knows, Buck is still his boyfriend. Buck has been his boyfriend for three years. He shouldn’t _ever_ be someone Eddie perceives as a threat. 

Still, he’s straining to hear if Buck is moving around the room, trying to pinpoint his location, just in case … 

What, he isn’t sure, but just in case _something._

“Buck …" he finally responds, pressing his hand flat against the door like he might be able to reach through it and touch him. “I never said that. Please, can I come in and explain?” HIs fingers flex around the doorknob, but he won’t let himself turn it, won’t push the door open until Buck invites him in. 

Regardless of who lived there first, their bedroom is Buck’s as much as it’s Eddie’s, and Buck has every right to feel safe there, not feel like Eddie is going to corner him, force him into a situation where he’s uncomfortable. 

“What’s there to explain?” Buck scoffs, but Eddie hears the desperation in his tone. “Sorry, Eds – Eddie – but I really don’t want to hear you tell me when you stopped loving me.” Buck corrects himself, taking back the nickname, and Eddie feels his heart crack. “I’ll leave my key on the table, text you when I leave. Don't worry about work; I’ll still be professional.” 

He sounds so definitive, so sure that this is the only solution, and Eddie feels himself starting to panic. If Buck really wants to leave, of course he won’t force him to stay, but how’d they go from a lovely anniversary together to Buck barricading himself in their bedroom in the span of 15 minutes?” 

“Buck, please.” Eddie tries again, pleading this time. “Can I come in? Sweetheart, please, can we at least talk about this before we decide anything?” 

“Fine.” Buck’s tone is cold, devoid of any emotion aside from the residual tears Eddie can still detect at the edges. He twists the knob, pushes the door open slowly so he can take in the scene before him. 

Buck is sitting on the edge of the bed, still dressed from earlier, but staring at the open T-shirt drawer. His socks are still on, but Eddie hadn’t figured he’d take them off just to do … whatever he’d been planning to do when he fled from the living room. He’s craning his neck to see the drawer, hands hanging in limp fists between his knees and shoulders pulled up toward his ears, even as his spine curves like his head weighs a thousand pounds. 

With the tension Eddie can feel in the room, he supposes it probably feels that heavy to Buck. He lingers in the doorway for a moment, and Buck speaks before he can move forward. 

“You know, I don’t even know what shirts are mine anymore. They’re all just _ours_.” 

“I know.” Eddie steps toward him carefully, but stops short of sitting next to him. With Buck in the middle of the mattress, there’s not enough room for Eddie to sit without crowding him, and he suspects that Buck needs the space right now. “I love it.” 

“But you don’t love me.” Buck’s head drops down, and his fingers tighten as he presses his fists into his eyes. He sounds so resigned to it that Eddie begins to wonder if he’ll ever be able to convince him otherwise. 

“That’s not what I said.” He wants to reach for Buck, offer whatever sort of comfort he can. Buck is tense enough that his shoulders have to ache, and Eddie wants nothing more than to soothe that away, help him relieve the stress. 

He knows it would probably upset Buck more than it would help, though, so he shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can hear his mother’s voice reminding a much younger version of himself not to stretch the pants out, lest he ruin the lines of them. He hadn’t known what that mean then, and he doesn’t care now; his only priority is taking care of Buck and trying to reassemble the fragmented shards of their relationship. 

“Yeah, it is.” Buck’s devastation cuts through his brief distraction, pulls him back to their bedroom and the turmoil in front of him. “You don’t love me like you used to.” 

“That’s right.” Eddie takes a risk and sets down, balancing carefully on the very corner of the mattress, one leg folded underneath so he can turn to face Buck. “I haven’t loved you like that since our first date. Do you want to know why?” 

“Don’t see how you’re going to make this better, but go on.” There’s bitterness in Buck’s voice now, like he’s preparing for Eddie to lie to him. He’s still staring at the floor, and Eddie knows that’s going to be the first step in making things right again 

“Buck. Look at me?” He waits for Buck to turn his head and reaches his hand out slowly, like he’s worried that Buck might take off running again. “It’s OK, I’m right here. Not going anywhere, not until I say my piece.” 

Buck eyes his hand warily, but reaches out to lace their fingers together, and Eddie’s relief is palpable. 

“You’re right.” Eddie draws Buck’s hand up to kiss his knuckles softly. “I don’t love you like I used to.” Buck opens his mouth, but Eddie keeps talking before he can protest. “ _Because_ I love you so much more now than I did then. Every. Single. Day.” He punctuates each word with another gentle press of his lips to Buck’s fingers. “I fall a little bit more in love with you. 

“Every time we kiss, every time I see you playing with our beautiful son, I love you just a little bit more. Even now, wiping the tears off your face,” He reaches up with his free hand and flicks his finger across Buck’s cheekbone, and he can tell that Buck is only just noticing that he’s crying. “I’m falling in love with you again. 

“This is – _you are_ – the best thing I have _ever_ had, and I don’t ever want to go back to only loving you as much as I did three years ago. I want to keep falling more in love with you every day for the rest of our lives.” He brings their hands down to the bedspread as he stops talking, runs his thumb gently across the ridges of his knuckles and holds his breath again while he waits for Buck to respond. 

He doesn’t say anything right away, but he stands up and moves himself to right in front of where Eddie is sitting. Eddie lets himself be pulled to face Buck, their joined hands filling the space between them until Buck lets go and brushes more tears from his face. 

“You asshole!” He doesn’t raise his voice, but the words are sharp against the silence in the rest of the room. 

“I’m sorry?” Eddie feels the confusion muddling his brain; he thought he’d said all the right things, explained exactly how much he loves Buck, how it feels totally different than the way he loved him three years ago. 

“You couldn’t have said all that to begin with?” Buck flings his arms out to the side, lets them drop down against his thighs as his eyes go wide. “Couldn’t have saved me from trying to divide custody of our T-shirt drawer?” 

“What?” Eddie feels his eyebrows lift, but he brushes off the confusing announcement about T-shirt custody and shakes his head as he stands as well, taking a small step forward to give himself room in front of the mattress. “I didn’t think I’d need to explain it! I thought it went without saying, given how often I tell you I love you.” 

“Well it didn’t!” Buck pauses for a moment, then tips his head back and laughs. “I thought you were _break_ _ing up with me_!” 

Eddie isn’t sure why it’s funny, but Buck’s laughter is infectious, and he finds himself chuckling as he holds an arm out to pull Buck by the waist until their bodies are flush. 

“God, I never want to do that, Buck. Ever.” He runs his hand up and down Buck’s spine, ready for the weight of his head to drop against Eddie’s shoulder. When it does, Eddie turns his head to kiss Buck’s temple. 

“Good. Me neither.” His words are muffled by the fabric of Eddie’s shirt, but Eddie can hear them all the same. 

“I love you.” Eddie thinks this is maybe the most he’s ever meant it, but he knows it’ll feel that way next time he says it too. And hopefully every time after that for the rest of their lives. 

“I love you too.” 

Eddie starts swaying, rocking them both gently in a sort of half-dance that takes them across the bedroom and back slowly as he drops his voice to a whisper and reaches for Buck’s hand, holding it between their chests. 

“More than I used to.” 

Buck lifts his head, and Eddie meets him for a kiss. It’s soft and slow, tender in all the best ways until Buck pulls away and whispers into the tiny space between their lips. 

“Yeah. More than I used to.” 

**Author's Note:**

> See? Happy ending. Just like I promised. 
> 
> xoxo


End file.
